


Rub-A-Dub-Dub

by vienn_peridot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bathtubs, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fort Max in the Tub</p><p>(Fortress Maximus has a nice, relaxing oilbath with a very pleasant ending. He deserves to have a good day.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub-A-Dub-Dub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hope this improves your week a little, Bammshee.

It had been a good day.

It had been a _very_ good day.

Fortress Maximus looked down at the datapad and snorted with amusement. At first this ‘Positive Log’ thing had sounded like an utterly stupid idea. He’d actually laughed when Rung suggested it. Now he had to grudgingly admit that having actual solid proof of days like today on hand would be an effective weapon if tomorrow turned out to be horrible.

_Sunstreaker somehow managed to turn Whirl fluorescent green, I found those bookfiles I was looking for and Tailgate helped me get that gunk out of my backplating._

It felt like a pathetically small list and he knew the rest of the crew make fun of him if they found out that he was doing this. They wouldn’t find out from him, though. Max wouldn’t be telling anyone but Rung (and maybe Tailgate, one day) about it and the thing he was currently adding to his list was quite possibly the best part of his week.

_Booked one of the oil pools all for myself for three whole hours._

The oil pool was just as good as -if not _better_ than- seeing Sunstreaker tie a bright green Whirl into a knot. That unexpected event just put an unbeatable shine on his whole day. Alterations made, Max put the datapad back into subspace and stepped carefully into the oil pool, hissing at the sudden change in temperature.

Moving carefully, he waded out to the middle of the pool and lowered himself one slow inch at a time until he was submerged up to his neck. As his frame adjusted to the increased temperate the stinging sensation faded and his armour relaxed away from his protoform, allowing the medium-viscosity fluid to seep into every possible gap it could find until it surrounded both his armour and protoform with warmth that physically _forced_ his frame to relax.

His processor followed his frame, interconnected and interdependent systems winding down in a chain reaction he was able to thoroughly enjoy for once. The door was locked, there were no surprises lurking in the corners of the room and nothing was even remotely capable of jumping at him unless the ship’s artificial gravity suffered a full failure.

Right now Fortress Maximus’ demons were as far away as they could possibly be.

_This was a good idea._

When he felt like he could lie down without immediately tensing up again Max waddled over to one of the inbuilt benches, keeping as much of his frame as he could below the surface of the pool. His lipplates twitched as he imagined how silly he looked waddling through the oil, but right now with the heat of the fluid forcing the stiffness out of his frame and the memory of a bright green rotorframe pretzel refreshed by his datapad Max didn’t care what he looked like because he felt more ok than he had in a long, long time.

There was a headrest in this particular pool that let the tankformer sprawl on the built-in bench and even soak the entirety of his shoulder treads and he did just that, moaning low in his vocaliser as the sections that had been above the surface of the oil tingled and adjusted to the temperature.

Determined not to let his processor drift to the dark thoughts that usually haunted him, Max focused on his frame. It wasn’t something he liked to do. He’d spent so long trying to dissociate himself from his frame and what was happening to it in order to survive that it felt wrong to be doing the opposite. His fingers curled as he took a risk and forced himself to do it anyway, faceplates scrunching up as he anticipated the worst.

 _Nothing… nothing hurts_.

It was an unexpectedly pleasant discovery and Max felt himself relaxing further, fingers uncurling from the tight fists he’d subconsciously made. The oil flowed through gaps in his armour, easing movement and bringing more warmth to his core. First Aid’s repairs had been good and once aboard the Lost Light Ratchet had given everything a once-over so the lack of pain shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. He bit his lip and wriggled deeper into the pool, feeling his engine begin to rumble in a way it hadn’t done for years. He frowned again, trying to work out what his frame was doing.

When the tankformer finally figured it out he snorted and rolled his optics at the ceiling.

 _You’re_ purring _, you dumbaft_.

The vibrations from his engine made the oil do weird things and Max twitched, not uncomfortable enough to leave the pool or override the motion commands. Each minute wave felt like a tiny phantom touch to every single surface it travelled over. Max’s sensornet couldn’t decide if it felt like someone was ticking every square centimetre of exposed surface or fondling him gently.

Deciding to let his sensornet figure it out by itself Max focused his attention back on the almost miraculous lack of pain, the heat of the oil and the way it was still soothing and relaxing parts of his frame that he hadn’t even realised were tensed up. Heated oil slid smoothly over every surface and on a whim Max took a deep inhalation, closed his vents and let himself sink under the surface.

Down here the sound of his purring engine refracted strangely, buzzing and tickling against his the sweeping panels attached to his helm. The vibrations passing through the warm fluid rolled over Max’s frame in waves and his optics shot wide as his sensornet finally decided that this felt good.

 _Really_ good.

Gentle and insistent, the oil cradled Max and allowed the vibrations of his own engine to sweep over his frame, pulling long-forgotten reactions from his systems. He shut his optics off and lay on the bottom of the pool, trying not to twitch too much and disrupt the thoroughly enjoyable sensations pervading his frame.

He was forced back to the ledge at the side of the pool by overheating warnings flashing annoyingly across his HUD. The air of the room felt deliciously cool when his helm broke the surface. Every vent above the surface of the oil opened and plumes of steam shot from them, surrounding Max with a temporary cloud and the sound of roaring fans trying to bring his frame temperature back to normal.

The combination of relaxation, full-frame arousal from the strange massage and the sound of his cooling fans gave Max a rather naughty idea. He chewed his lower lip while he considered it.

_I could, I still have another couple of hours in here._

Even though he knew he was alone Fortress Maximus glanced guiltily around the room before silently allowing his primary interfacing covers to slide aside, followed quickly by the secondary one protecting his valve array.

Oil surged into the space, filling every nook and cranny. It was almost too hot for the sensor-rich external folds of Max’s valve and he hissed through his denta at the initial onslaught. It throbbed, the sting becoming pleasure so intense it was almost pain or pain so gentle it registered as pleasure. Contradictory feedback surged through the tankformer in alternating waves that threatened to white out his processor entirely. His engine roared to redline. The thunderous sound coming from his frame covered Max’s hitching gasps and tiny whimpers as he bucked his hips into the embrace of the oil pool.

Of course there was nothing to rut against, no pressure to satisfy his reawakened array. The oil slid around him teasingly, gentle currents stimulating without doing anything to ease the burning need between his thighs. Processor fogged with lust, he fisted his hands, braced his heels against the bottom of the pool and tried harder, creating waves that splashed against his faceplates and slopped out of the pool to puddle on the floor.

After a few minutes of thrusting his hips uselessly Fortress Maximus gave up on the futile movement and stilled his frame, hands creeping over his armour, heading towards his array. One forefinger and thumb spread the outermost folds, exposing as much of his metallic flesh as he could to the pool. He pressed up against himself, revelling in the indirect pressure. The motion forced his twin external sensory nubs to emerge from the delicate hoods of protoform that protected him, exposing them to the heated oil.

Max choked as bolts of searing electricity seemed to shoot straight from his nubs to his sparkchamber. Instinctively he pressed the palm of his free hand over the spread folds of his valve, trying to protect the comparatively fragile sensory nubs and struggling against the intense pleasure seasoned with hints of pain which had him in its grasp.

Overload hit him out of nowhere, something indefinable finally tipping him over the edge into one of the oddest overloads of his life. Fort Max shouted, arching and grinding into his hand as what felt like wave after wave of fiery delight surged out from where his palm mashed against his nubs. His frame jerked, making the tank involuntarily hump his hands and drive the overload onwards. It reached lengths he’d never experienced before and Fort Max started to wonder if it was possible to die from overloading too hard.

By the time it ended Max was absolutely wrecked. He carefully pulled his hands from his overstimulated and slightly bruised folds, sliding the covers closed with an effort. Drool trickled down his chin but he ignored in favour of not moving, sinking into the embrace of the oil with a sated sigh. His internal chronometer showed he still had about an hour of uninterrupted time left and he briefly contemplated adding this to his datapad and chuckled, shaking his head.

 _I’m pretty sure Rung would crash if saw I’d written_ that _down_.

Max leaned his helm back against the edge of the oil pool and blinked dazedly at the ceiling, wondering if he should go for round two.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I give up on serious titles for PWPs o.O
> 
> 2) The 'Positive Log' is a thing. I thought Max might find it handy too.


End file.
